Author's Note:
This is an interlude between Buffy and William. It can be read by itself but actually falls in the middle of Chapter 11 of Love and Remembrance. It was written at the same time, but spoilt the flow of the main story and was deleted. However, with encouragement from the wonderful Chencen Yang I have decided to post it as a standalone episode.
Disclaimer
Nope still not mine: Joss's, M.E. etc.
Warning:
R for sexual content.
Summary:
Before her death Cordelia passed on her visions to Spike.Angel and Spike renewed their blood-bond. Spike sacrificed himselfandAngel felt him wink out of existence. However, Buffy is convinced he survived. She and Willow search for him, finally finding him in London but to their shock he's human and as he collapses on a London street they realise he's still having visions.
-
Interlude - Buffy's Gift
He felt a touch on his shoulder.
"Spike, are you ok?"
He looked up into concerned eyes and the sight of the girl filled him. She was cherries and peaches and clean air on a spring day.
But why did she call him Spike? It was entwined with the visions he had seen, it confused him.
Was he back in the physical world or still lost in the images of pain and death that filled his head? At any moment, something would leap out at her, eviscerate her, torture her, murder her. Like all the others he saw, cowering in alleyways or running through the night, panicked and terrified. He saw the places, where they fought and died with such clarity that he could probably have picked up enough clues to pinpoint the exact spot of their tortuous death. He saw monsters, gruesome to look upon and fatal to meet. He heard the screams of their victims, the overwhelming impression of evil haunting him into his waking hours.
Except sometimes he had that dream.
The dark-haired man who smiled at him and looked at him with softened eyes, an oasis of calm and a respite from the evil, tall, handsome, with a sense of power and controlled strength. Smiling at him saying,
"Welcome home, Spike."
"Why didn't you come home, Spike?"
The girl's voice intruded and jumbled jarringly with the voice of his dream. She seemed to be real.
"Name's William, not Spike." he rasped.
"Whatever. Look, let's get you inside and cleaned up, you're covered in blood. Then you can tell me exactly what you think you're doing here. You must have known how we'd feel. You could have let us know."
She was looking seriously annoyed. These fits always left him feeling disorientated but there was definitely something off-kilter here. And for once it wasn't him.
"Let you know what? Excuse me, but who the hell are you?"
Her brow furrowed.
"You don't know me?"
"Uh...No."
Buffy took in his obvious confusion and reassessed the situation. He was an adult human, he must have been given memories and an altered reality in the same way Dawn's sudden presence had. Obviously, he no longer remembered his previous life. He must think she was some sort of insane-o woman.
"Jeez, I'm sorry. You're identical to someone I used to know…it's uncanny."
"Yeah?" He gave a half-hearted shrug and put a hand to his nose, attempting to stymie the bleeding. "I've heard everyone has a double."
Buffy breathed again.
"Believe me, you're the image of him."
"This Spike?"
"Uh huh. Look you really need to clean up, you have blood dripping down your chin."
It was so familiar that she was almost tempted to chide him for his sloppy eating habits.
"Sorry. Nosebleed. Happens when I get these…"
"Visions? Yeah, I'd heard it affects hu…people that way."
"I was going to say fits. I hope they're not bloody visions, the world couldn't be that terrifying." He muttered.
Buffy looked at him, almost replied and then thought better of it, saying instead "Lean on me. I'll help you home."
His head was about to explode. This last one had left him more weak and confused than ever. The intensity remained with him and, even as he walked through that bright English morning, part of him was standing somewhere dark, waiting. He had an impression of turning cogs that sent worlds spinning and humming. The universe waited with baited breath as though the music of the spheres was reaching a new crescendo. Momentous and breath-taking, time and place converging. Hanging over it all was that clear voice. The dark voice that called him, even as it spoke a name that wasn't his: Spike.
The word was full of grief and anger. He was compelled to go to it, find the source of this disturbing emotion. William knew it was time. He was getting weaker, if he didn't go now he would die without ever finding the stranger who waited for him. He thought of the images he had seen and recognised the landmarks, after all, L.A. was unmistakeable. He would rest and recover, then book his flight to L.A. and find this man, this source of mystery. But first he had to discover what the girl knew of Spike. That she should turn up now, speaking a name which was the stuff of nightmares and dreams, was beyond coincidence. It came to him as she offered to take him home that maybe she was the only person who could.
Will accepted her proffered help, but tried to keep from weighing too heavily on her seemingly fragile form. They reached his home and he stumbled inside, collapsing on the couch, looking tired and ill.
"Do you need some water? Painkillers?"
"Yeah. Water, please. And could you pull the blinds? Sunlight makes my head worse." He reached inside his coat pocket for his tablets.
Buffy shut out the sunlight and brought the water. He knocked back a couple of the pills, made himself comfortable on the couch and shut his eyes.
"Do you need a medic?"
"Nah. I'll be fine." He lied.
"No, Sp…William, you're not fine. These visions are killing you. Is there anyone I should call…a relative or friend …or a girlfriend?"
"There's no one. I'm ok."
"But you're not, are you?"
He was too tired to argue. His head was killing him and his body was stiff with pain. He allowed each muscle to relax one by one, letting the tension melt away as he concentrated on the darkness behind his eyelids and let the painkillers work their magic. This had been a bad one.
He could hear the girl walking towards him, then soothing, gentle touches, as she wiped his face with a cloth soaked in warm water. She finished and moved away. Drowsiness overcame him and the next time he became aware of her, she was holding his hand.
His eyes flickered and she squeezed his hand.
"Hey? Are you ok?"
He tested for pain…a slight throbbing and tenderness behind his eyes. Maybe he could bear to open them a peep. Her face filled his vision.
"You are beautiful." He said softly.
They stared at each other, their silence pregnant with possibilities.
"So are you."
She leant forward and kissed him.
Just a whisper of a kiss, a breath against his skin, as delicate as butterfly wings fanning against his lips. Such an insubstantial thing. But pain disappeared as his bones turned to water.
"Who are you?" He breathed.
"Does it matter?" She asked and brought a hand to his cheek, softly running her fingers across the hollows of his face and down his neck.
So gentle. Like a wisp of silk drifting over him, but leaving a trail across his skin that burnt like fire. His breathing began to quicken. He was lost in her eyes, fascinated by her.
She kissed him again. A more solid presence. Her lips soft and sensuous. He felt as though he could breathe her in. Her small frame slid down and she slowly stretched out beside him, never breaking the kiss. It grew more demanding and he couldn't help responding, opening up to her, allowing her to softly tongue inside his mouth, exploring this new territory. He could feel her small hand drifted to the skin above the waist band. Her touch, her scent and the feeling that he could lose himself in her, sent quivers through his body.
He felt like he was in some weird dream. She released the button of his jeans and the pop as it came undone juddered through him. He looked down to see her small, feminine hand releasing the zipper notch by notch. God, what the hell was happening? She was acting as though he were an old familiar lover and, although alluring and erotic in its way, it made him incredibly uneasy.
"No."
She froze.
"What do you think you're doing?"
She gestured down at his half released zip as though that was all the explanation needed.
"No." He hastily tucked himself away.
"Huh?"
"I don't want this. It's not right."
"HUH?"
"I'm sorry. It's not you. It's me."
"Oh. Ok." Her mouth turned down slightly. "Aren't you attracted to me?"
Buffy could feel her lips trembling as one of the certainties of life came crashing down around her ears. The sun rose, the sea lapped the shore and Spike wanted her. Just a fact of life.
"Yes. No. Well the thing is…I'm more into men if you know what I mean…and look, are you always this…forward with strangers?"
She began to laugh.
"Ok. Right. You're into men and I'm too forward! Now tell me what's really wrong, Spike."
"This is the problem isn't it? You think I'm Spike. I'm not. I'm William."
"Ok. You're William. And you're attracted to men." She managed to keep her face serious this time. "So tell me, William. What makes you think you're attracted to men?"
"Do you have to sound so patronising?" He turned his head away. "Anyway, I don't know you well enough to discuss this with you."
"Yes, but if you were attracted to women instead of men then by now you would know me well enough to discuss why you're attracted to men…and that made more sense in my head."
"I can imagine. Worryingly for me I did manage to get the gist of it." He gave a slight grin. It made her want to reach out again.
"Tell me."
"No. It'll make me sound like a stupid wanker."
"I'm just some stranger, what does it matter how it sounds? So share."
"I suppose. Oh, sod it, why not." Heturned his headaway from her. "I havea dream. Had it for as long as I can remember.a man -tall, powerful, otherworldly. He turns to me and smiles, overwhelming me with love and need. I get this feeling emanating from him, we belong together. I've been searching for him ever since."
He waited for her to laugh again, but she didn't. Instead she took his hand.
"Tall? Dark? Face of an Angel?"
"No he hasn't got the face of a bloody angel…well not one of the little cherub things…more like one of the angel warriors, you know, like that one sent out to kill every male firstborn? That sort of face."
He looked down in embarrassment and wished he hadn't told her.
"It's ok, William. I understand. I used to have the same dream. Then I found out he needed something else."
"You know him? I'm sorry...I mean..."
"It's ok. But the dream doesn't mean you're gay. Love and sex isn't always the same thing, you're a man you should know these things." No bitterness towards Parker here. Nope. Absolutely not.
"Look. I have to go but I'll call back in an hour, if you don't mind? Just to see how you're doing. Then I won't disturb you again. I'm returning to the US later today."
"You're American?"
"Accent?"
"Yeah. Right. Sorry, been a bit out of it today."
"I'd noticed."
She turned to leave.
"Hey." He looked into her eyes once again. "If I were straight, I swear it would be you."
She smiled.
"Thanks."
-
"Willow!"
"Buff? Is everything ok?"
"Yes. No. He has no memory of us, he thinks he's gay, he's dying and he thinks I'm crazy slut girl! I can feellife slipping away from him and I…" Her face began to crumple.
"Oh Buffy!"
"I just expect him to be there for me but he's not and soon he'll die and there will be nothing left of him. It's not fair."
"I know, Sweetie. Things are like that sometimes." Willow replied softly.
"I watched him as he slept. He could have died in that room and who would even know? I didn't want him to slip away with nothing to show for his presence, it all seemed so purposeless. What was the point of bringing him back for such a short time? As I sat with him I had a revelation, I knew what I had to do, Willow. Humans is to survive. They have children and they survive. That's why he's been brought back as a human and that would be my gift to him, to put aside all the anger and bitterness, and truly forgive. I thought if we could…you know… get groiny, you would be able to make sure there was a child but…"tears filled her eyes, "but I couldn't even do that for him. He didn't want me."
"You want his baby?" Willow tried to cover her shocked surprise. "Ummm. Maybe he just found it all a bit sudden. I mean, big decision, Buff."
"He thinks he's gay!"
"And you think he's not?"
"Willow, it's Spike…"
"You have to see things from his point of view, maybe this gay thing is something real. I mean take me, all denial girl after Evil-vamp Willow. Maybe this is what he really is."
"He's just got himself all confused. He dreams of Angel and of love, he doesn't understand how it is with vampires, how it is with sire and offspring. Hell he doesn't even believe in vampires."
"Ok, I take your point. But do we really know how it is with vampires? Yes, we assume Angel and Spike don't have sex because, well, you know Spike. He wouldn't have been able to resist embarrassing Angel with inappropriate bulletins on what they get up to. But supposing it's the norm amongst most vampires, I mean it might be just Angel's curse that stops them."
"All I know is that just for a minute, I had him there. He wanted me."
Willow looked at her distressed face and heavy tears, quivering at the end of dark, spiky lashes, and sighed. She couldn't refuse her friend.
"Ok, I'll help. You go and get showered and clean. I'll get a few ingredients to ensure fertility and then you go and seduce the hell out of him."
"Do you think I can?"
"This is Spike. Do you think you can?"
Her eyes darkened.
"Oh, yeah."
-
She tried the handle of the door. It opened. Her heart began to beat faster but she walked in. What was the worse that could happen? She could end up looking like an almighty idiot. She'd done that before and managed to survive.
"William? It's me."
"Yeah. Be down now. Make yourself at home."
She went into the room where she'd sat and watched him sleep and wondered if he'd ever wake again.
This time she took the time to look around. There was a photograph on the wall. A blue-eyed boy with his parents or maybe grandparents. She examined it more closely. The boy was grinning. She reached out, gently running a finger over the glass, wiping the dust away and highlighting the outline of his face.
Suddenly the enormity of what she was going to do struck her. Death is her gift. Yet here she was contemplating bringing life into the world. A child she would have to care for. Sleepless nights. Diapers. Baby sick on her clothes. A demanding, needy, noisy little person. Was she ready for that?
It was strange not being needed, no longer the Chosen One and now Dawn all grown up. As much as she loved her much vaunted freedom, she wanted to be needed. Now that the thought was in her head and she'd decided what to do, she realised it wasn't some noble self-sacrificing gesture or an act of forgiveness. As much as she wanted to do this for Spike, she wanted it for herself even more. She wanted a mischievous, demanding, needy, loving child. She wanted Spike's child. But first she needed to convince him he had his sexuality all confused. Or if Willow was right, then she had to get him all confused over his sexuality.
He walked through the door looking like sex on legs, scrubbed and clean, towelling his hair into soft spikes. His bloodshot eyes had cleared and were once again bright with life. But what made Buffy catch her breath was the way he was dressed. She suddenly began to doubt herself; this was so not Spike, in his sloppy jeans and worn black T-shirt. This was Will. He was stylish. His clothes were expensive and fitted. VERY fitted. Her eyes traced the ridges of his abs through the thin material of his tight top. Surely that was at least one size too small and his pants were possibly illegal.
It occurred to her that he was too meticulously groomed.
"I'm sorry, were you about to go out?"
"No." He looked at her in query. "You did say you'd be back. Would be a bit rude to disappear now."
Oh God, he'd got dressed like this for her! Those pants, the tight top were all for her. And he looked damned fine. Maybe she could do this after all. But suddenly it seemed too cold-blooded. This was William. She wanted to get to know him. Find out about him, his similarities to Spike and his differences.
"If you feel up to it perhaps we could go out, grab a coffee?" He was hesitating and her face began to fall. "Or tea?"
He smiled at her persistence.
"Sure. Why not?"
He'd put on the gear because he sensed he needed this girl and if he had to play on his likeness to this Spike then, needs must. So he dressed the way he imagined Spike might have. He must have been seductive to provoke such strong feelings in the dark-haired man and in this pretty little girl. Will could do seductive.
They wandered through Hyde Park and Buffy remembered the last time she'd been here, Spike had died in the conflagration and she'd travelled through Europe, ending up here, greedily consuming all she could of London, its streets, its life, its accents, imagining the human William taking a morning constitutional around the park, tipping his hat and speaking politely to acquaintances. She looked at the human William and swallowed loudly. Maybe it hadn't been a daydream but a premonition.
"So tell me about Spike." Will asked quietly, cocking his head slightly to one side.
"Spike? Uh ok. When I first saw him he had this whole bad boy thing going for him. He wasn't born bad; I guess you could say he fell in with the wrong crowd."
"Ah. Old story, the good boy who goes off the rails."
"That was, Spike. Way off the rails. Exuberant, joyful, always with the clever plans that he was too impatient to carry out."
"Then what?"
"Like you said, old story. Fell in love and changed himself to what he thought the girl needed."
"The redemptive power of love? Huh. So what next? Everyone had a nice cup of tea and lived happily ever after?"
"Well sort of, in the 'no not likely' kinda way." She gave a slight frown as she tried to think about things from Spike's point of view.
"When he became good, he regretted all the bad…very bad stuff he'd done and thought he'd never be good enough for the girl. So he laid down his life every night attempting to redeem himself, I guess. He died in a fire saving the…saving some people."
"Oh that's…well, tragic. You're the girl? Yeah, course you are. I'm sorry, you know, for bringing back bad memories."
"Don't be…somehow it's easier talking to you about this than it isto my own friends."
"Well, if you really don't mind, I do have a question."
Buffy nodded.
"How does the dark-haired man fit into all this? You said you knew him?"
"It's complicated. Yeah, I know people always say that. Ok. He once hung with the same bad crowd as Spike; they were friends, except closer…more like family. Then something happened, which forced him to turn his back on that life and those people. He ended up helping me and we fell in love."
"So why aren't you two lovebirds together?"
"Long, long story. I guess once he got the 'do good' bug, life with me wasn't enough. He had zeal…a passion; he needed to help people, needed to make up for his past. He thought life with me would hold him back. He needed to fulfil his potential."
"Oh. Bummer."
"Yeah, it really was. At the time I didn't understand why he was leaving. Guess I never really have. Until now. Anyway, we meet occasionally, have awkward silences, remember everything we once were and everything we could have been and realise that our time has passed and we're not even the same people anymore."
Will walked along in sympathetic silence, giving her time to collect her thoughts.
"Then there was Spike. I don't know how it happened really. I mean, him and Spike, they hated each other, fought over everything."
"Including you?"
"Well, just short of full scale nuclear explosions, but yeah."
"Homosocial."
"And I say; 'huh?'"
"When two men are attracted to each other, but conform to the social restraints placed on them, it emerges in other ways. Like fighting over a girl that the other man has, because subliminally he wants the bloke himself. Fighting and arguing are just flirting and shagging in a different language. You know, like Oliver Reed and Alan Bates? Homosocial, in the end it's all about passion."
He saw her face and realised that this theory wasn't very complimentary to her.
"There again that's probably a load of crock. I mean friends often have similar taste, it's what makes them friends to start with."
"Whatever. Anyway, something changed, they both seemed to wakeup and realise that they were on the same side and they could take up that old friendship again."
"That's not the whole story is it?"
Buffy remembered what Willow had said earlier and shrugged.
"Who really knows what goes on between two people?"
William seemed content with that answer but then said softly,
"So why do I dream about him?"
Buffy remained silent.
They reached a café, all leather couches and large glass windows.
"So I've told you about Spike. Are you going to tell me about yourself?"
She wanted to hear the comfort of that voice. It worked on her like salt on skin, leaving her raw and exposed, Spike's voice could always do that to her. Make her feel.
"What's to tell?"
"Family? Friends? Lovers? Job? Visions?"
"Family none. Friends a few close ones who are getting more and more frightened as they watch these fits take over my life. Job, freelance writer. Lovers, it's complicated but there's no-one at the moment. Visions? Guess you mean seizures. Had them all my life. Getting worse."
"And that's your life summed up in, let's see…" she made a pretence of glancing at her watch "…less than a minute."
"What can I say? I'm an uncomplicated kind of guy."
"So, no Mom and Dad?"
"Nah. Nothing tragic. I was born late in their life. They lived good healthy lives and died within a few months of each other."
"No brothers or sisters?"
"Nope. My mother was supposed be infertile so I was seen as something of a miracle."
"Huh. A miracle you're here? Whaddya know. Ok, a writer, what sort of stuff do you write?"
"Well I'm not exactly prolific but you know occasional articles and stories in magazines or papers. My parents left me a house and enough to get by on, so I never really had that driving need that most struggling writers have. I write mainly for my own pleasure. Anyway, what do you do?"
"Oh...I teach."
"Yeah. What do you teach?"
She thought for a moment.
"Life skills."
"Guess that'd be wasted on me."
Buffy looked at him questioningly.
"You said it yourself, these seizures are killing me."
Buffy shifted uncomfortably.
"So what next for you?" She asked. She needed to get him to Angel, so that they could make some decisions. She sipped her coffee, wondering how she could talk him into going to L.A.
"What's next? Actually, I was thinking of going to L.A. Hey, you alright?" He asked, as Buffy choked on her coffee.
"Have you ever tried to whistle down a cab?"
"Whistle?"
"Uh huh. You know how to whistle don't you, Sam? Just put your lips together and blow."
"Ok Bacall, I'm missing something here, aren't I?"
"Not interested in a cab? How about hitching? Have you ever tried hitching a lift? Just stick out your thumb and look sexy."
William looked at her as though she had gone insane.
"Stick out your thumb, William." She demanded, looking so serious that he slowly did as he was told.
She tossed her hair back, smiled and cocked her head, saying, "Hey, sexy stranger, you need a lift? I'm heading for L.A."
"What are you twittering on about, bint?"
He had never looked or sounded quite so much like Spike as he did at that moment; annoyed, confused and with a sense that he was somehow the butt of a joke.
"I'm asking you if you would like to join me and my friend in a supersonic jet heading for Los Angeles. We leave in about four hours."
"You're kidding?"
"Actually, no."
William believed her. He took a deep breath to calm himself as his world shifted and he sensed pieces clicking into place.
"Ok then."
"Ok?" Buffy grinned at him. "Ok."
"Four hours?"
"Give or take."
"I need to make some phone calls, pack a few things. Better pick up my passport and my credit card. I suppose that's really all I need."
He leant over and impulsively kissed her.
"Thanks…uh…are you going to tell me your name now."
"Spike used to call me Slayer."
"This Spike, bit of an odd bloke was he?"
"You've no idea."
"Come on, Bacall. Let's go."
They once again made their way through the park, teasing and laughing like old friends.
"Excuse me, I've just got to phone my friend, let her know we've got a guest for the return journey."
He nodded absently, his thoughts whirling. He couldn't believe he was doing this. Sure, he could be a bit impetuous but this was rash even for him. He was going to L.A. to pursue a dream, like so many others before him. Perhaps with even less chance of success than all the other starry-eyed hopefuls. However, his decision was made and he could have laughed at the simplicity and the rightness of it.
He pulled out his phone.
"Hey."
"Yeah, I'm ok but I had another one this morning."
"Nah, don't come over. Just ringing to tell you I'm leaving."
"Yeah, well. There are places I need to go and gotta face it, I'm running out of time."
"Hey. No. Don't mate. I swear I'm ok. Its just…now or never, you know how it is."
"Today."
"I know but…just tell the others will you?"
"Yeah, you too. Give my love to them."
He flicked the phone closed. That was the closest he could come to saying the word. The 'goodbye' word.
Buffy let him walk a little ahead so they could both have some privacy.
"Willow?"
"Buffy! Have you done the dirty yet?"
Buffy realised she'd been enjoying his company so much she'd forgotten all about her plans.
"He's so nice…I don't know…would it be wrong? I mean…I really like him…"
Willow began to laugh. "So you can't jump his bones because you really like him?"
"Even if he wasn't Spike, I'd still like him and having this ulterior motive…isn't it a bit like using him? I don't want to use him, Willow."
"Then don't. Forget about Spike and take William for what he is."
"I guess I already love him a little."
"In that case you have my blessing." Willow intoned seriously.
Buffy giggled. "Thanks Mom." Then realised what she had said. There was moment of shocked silence at the little joke. "I mean it, thanks, Willow. He wants to go to L.A. and I've offered to take him back with us. Can you do something to shield him, you know, from mega-curious eyes."
"Not a problem, Sweetie, I've been doing it since he first collapsed in the street."
"We'll leave about five?"
"I'll get everything ready. I'm looking forward to meeting him."
"Ok. See you later."
She caught up to where William was waiting and tucked her hand into his arm.
"So, William. Tell me more about your other lovers."
"My other lovers? Got a feeling they were straightforward compared to you."
"Me? I'm uncomplicated to the point of simple," she fluttered her eyelashes in faux innocence, "or so I've been told…well, the simple part anyway!"
He smiled, feeling unfettered and giddy with the sense of freedom.
"You, Bacall, have secrets within secrets. So tell me."
"I'll tell you one of them and, believe me, I'm not used to being this honest." She looked suddenly awkward and shy. "I like you, William and I would like to make love to you."
He looked once more into those wide serious eyes and felt his heart lurch. For some reason this woman moved him, from the moment he'd seen her he felt some unfamiliar passion and tenderness stirring.
"I think this might be a day of firsts." He whispered huskily.
The smouldering look in his eyes was all the reassurance she needed.
They held hands as they walked back to his place, exchanging small caresses between their linked fingers.
"What made you change your mind?" She asked tentatively.
"Not exactly changed my mind, just managed to let my prejudices go and admit I'm attracted to you. Don't really need to tell you that though, think it stood out a mile."
She remembered her hand on his crotch.
"A mile? Slight exaggeration there, Will."
"Hush, bint. Don't tease, not if you want me to last until we get home."
"Why, William!" Again that innocent look. "I mean, what are you going to do, throw me down in the middle of the park? Or find some convenient little copse, like that one over there and…"
"Oh bloody hell!"
He grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into the copse of trees she'd so conveniently pointed out. She was laughing and breathless and pressed tightly against his body.
"I've never…" He pulled back slightly.
"Don't worry, I'll be gentle." She teased and then looking into those vulnerable eyes her tone changed.
"I won't hurt you, William. Promise."
He smiled gently and touched her with all the reverence and wonder of a supplicant reaching out to a saint.
She drew him back to her arms and pressed her mouth softly to his. Again, he found himself falling under the spell of those sensual butterfly kisses so different to the rough demanding mouths he was accustomed to. The contrast of her smooth skin and tender body, unfamiliar and intriguing, demanded further exploration with hands and lips.
She gave a soft, breathy moan and the realisation that those noises were for him, emboldened him further. He traced her profile and then let his hands run down the thin material of her top, skimming lightly over her body. Even that feathery touch brought a gasp to her throat.
His timidity was so different to all the other men she'd known, it was alluring and incredibly arousing. There was no confusion in her head as she looked into those long-lashed eyes, there was no doubt that she was with Will, and she was his first experience of a woman. All the ambiguousness and confusion that muddied her feelings for Spike melted away as she looked at Will. Suddenly she wanted to do this properly, not just a quick fumble in a public place. After this, she would be Buffy the Mom. It raised the act itself almost to the spiritual, rather than physical.
"Will, we'd better save this for your place. I mean, I know we're leaving the country, but really don't think public indecency charges would impress my friends back home."
He looked back, his hair was wild and his eyes were almost blank with lust.
She was nearly tempted…but no. She tugged on his hand.
"Come on, Will. Home. Now."
Slowly he nodded and walked beside her in silence, until he finally unlocked the front door and closed it securely behind them.
Buffy found herself pressed against the door, his body plastered against hers. She could feel the intensity of his need. Her mouth opened to him, he explored it, sucking her tongue, tasting the bitter coffee and the underlying sweetness of her breath.
One hand went to her tiny waist, slipping under her clothes to feel the warmth of her skin, moving silkily over her body, intrigued by her femininity, wanting to discover more. He tentatively caressed a breast, feeling the softness and the way it fitted so perfectly in his hand. She rubbed her body seductively against his, drawing forth harsh, breathy gasps.
"Show me." He demanded. "Teach me. Want to give you everything you need."
She nodded, not trusting herself to speak, she allowed herself to be led upstairs.
He pulled his top off and her hands traced the fine lines of his torso. He was slim but muscular, his skin lightly tanned. She revelled in his similarities and differences to Spike, as she breathed in his warm, musky smell. Then she lifted her own top off.
His body was taut with a desire he barely knew how to satisfy with that unfamiliar body.
She slipped off her shoes and began to unbutton her trousers, shimmying slightly to remove them.
"Come here, Will."
He moved towards her, each step heavy with implication, it almost unnerved him.
"Take off your shoes and socks."
He kicked off his shoes and nervously pulled at his socks.
"Unbutton your pants."
Again he obeyed.
"Now undo your zip…slowly."
He suddenly realised that he knew this game, had played it many times.
Notch by notch, he teased out his gradual release. Her eyes never left his until he looked down and she followed his gaze. Her breathing lurched, but somehow she managed to stop herself from just reaching out and taking. This was William. She must keep calm and lead him gently.
"Take them off, Will, and come to the bed."
His movements were slow and seductive and his pants pooled at his.
"Can I touch you?" His voice was lust-rough.
She nodded.
He smiled and tenderly laid her down, running his hand over smooth plains and soft curves, kissing and tasting as he went, until her body was shivering into sweet caresses, aching towards his touch. She moaned softly and began guiding his hands, teaching him how her body liked to be played. He lifted his head to watch her body as it trembled to his touch, quivering like guitar strings to the stroke of his fingers. He listened to the beat of her breath and rhythm of her sighs, so perfectly attuned. It was the pure music of passion.
She looked so wanton, her eyes dark and her skin flushed and hot to his touch, as though her body was afire. She pulled him close and he was swallowed by her warmth. The sensation was unbelievable. He groaned in wonder, his eyes closing in pleasure.
"That's so good. Beautiful. You are beautiful."
He moved against her and her breathing became ragged, as she finally gained what her body had been craving since their first kiss that morning.
Reaching out, she wrapped him in her arms, drifting in the eroticism of flexing, writhing muscles. He felt so good. She dragged her hands up his chest, becoming momentarily absorbed by the miraculous beat of his heart. She remembered how Spike enjoyed being touched and ever restless fingers began moving, trying to make it feel as good for him as it did for her.
His eyes, those lustful voyeurs, dilated to black.
Small hands dropped to wrists that quivered with the effort of supporting hard masculine flesh, as he released all his passion and need into her delicate looking body. It felt so good. Her breathy little moans turned into harsh cries that kept time with his thrusts. It was amazing. It made him feel strong and powerful.
Suddenly she was biting her lip and digging in painfully with her fingers. It felt almost as if her body was fighting his touch. She writhed beneath, blindly clutching and crushing, as her body bowed and arched and clenched fiercely around him.
It was incredible. Low guttural sounds issued from his mouth as he stifled the urge just to howl his completion.
Then time slowed, through golden silence they held together, as close as two people could get. Lost to the moment and abandoned to their separate pleasure, until the last spasms passed through their bodies.
Exhausted, he fell against her and closed his eyes.
"I've reconsidered my position…I think maybe I'm straight after all."
She smiled gently and stroked his hair.
"You know, I really do love you, Will."
His eyes were closed and he was on the cusp of sleep as he whispered, "Love you too, Buff."
And those few words melted her to the very soul. Even in this life he had some residual memory of her burnt into his unconscious mind.
She held him close and wondered if she could bear to let him go. This man she could have loved for an eternity. Why should she return him to Angel? But he was dying and whatever she chose to do, he would never be hers. All she had were these few precious hours.
She held him closer still.
-
"I've changed my mind." He told the two girls. "I don't want to find this man. I want to stay with you."
He turned to Buffy.
"I've thought about it and that's what I want to do."
"I want you to stay with me too, Will. But you know you're never gonna be happy until you've found him and resolved these feelings."
"Is that a 'no'? Because in that case I'm not getting on the plane."
He sounded like the old Spike, petulant and stubborn. Buffy rolled her eyes; they didn't have time for this.
Willow caught her thought.
"On the plane, William." She commanded and coerced his legs into movement.
He turned furious eyes to the red-haired girl.
"I don't know what you're doing, but its bloody cheating and it's called kidnap."
He took a breath to shout for help and found that no sound came forth. He turned red with anger his whole body quivering in rage.
"Calm down. We're not going to hurt you but you have to see this man from your dreams, you know it really."
He finally nodded and indicated that he wasn't going to do resist anymore. He flung himself into a seat.
"Don't ever do that to me again."
His words were cold and dangerous.
"I'm sorry, but you have the visions, you know what a dangerous, violent world it is and you were endangering us. Did you want to see all hell raised against us?"
He finally shook his head.
"Look you're exhausted. This trip won't take too long and it will still be daylight when we arrive, what with the speed of the plane and the time zones, so why don't you try to grab a little shuteye now?"
He thought there was no way he could fall asleep, there was too much to consider, but almost immediately his eyes began to close and if Willow had anything to do with it she wasn't saying.
"You too, Buff. You stayed awake all last night; it's not good for you, even with your slayer stamina."
"Already ahead of you, Wills." She replied, letting her eyes droop and holding one hand protectively over her stomach. She dreamt of hugs and little hands, whoops and calls that echoed through the trees, happy laughter and a warm face pressed close to hers. When she awoke she had tears crusted in the corner of her eyes.
-
The cab dropped them off at a set of large imposing gates set into a blank brick wall. William looked nervously at the two girls. Buffy smiled at him but he could detect a trace of wetness in her eyes.
"This is it." Willow smiled and placed a hand to the gate. It swung open to her touch.
"He's there?"
Willow eyes became unfocused and then she nodded.
Buffy hugged him and then stepped away with a sad smile. She hoped she was done with hard choices and sacrifice.
He picked up his bag, squared his shoulders and followed the tangled driveway. The air here tasted sweet and the garden seemed to murmur to him, welcoming words that were just beyond his range of hearing. Leaves and twigs brushed against him, clinging as though they would never let go of him again. Trees moved their branches, allowing welcoming sunshine to follow him, so as he walked he was permanently haloed in the last of the soft, evening light. The girls had been right; this was where he needed to be.
Trancelike, he stood before a heavy wooden door. He put a hand to it and it swung open, revealing a large hall with a staircase rising in front of him. He moved forward, dropped his bag and stood gazing up the stairs. Somehow he knew that was where he was.
His vision came back to him, together with that sense of anticipation and a world that held its breath.
A slight movement and a large figure emerging from the gloom. Will dropped his eyes, lost in confusion at the emotion that was swelling and breaking around him.
"What are you doing in my house?" The voice demanded. It was the voice in his dreams and it pierced him like a knife.
He raised his eyes and the man seemed to freeze.
"I'm sorry. These two bints more or less kidnapped me. They said this is where I needed to be. Do you think maybe they were lunatics?"
"Spike?"
And there was that name and every emotional nuance and undertone he'd ever imagined was there in that word.
"Yeah. They kept calling me that. Name's Will." He replied with a smile, his heart singing a tale of home.